Family Ties
by H. Reilly
Summary: Some time after seeing his friend and colleague plummet to his death, Dr. John Watson receives the shock of his life when a young girl claiming to be Sherlock Holmes long lost niece appears in his home. Alex, a teenage thief and amateur consulting detective, appears to be the only other person who believes that Holmes is still alive. Add the two, and you get one crazy adventure.


The dismal fog seemed to brood in the silence of twilight, with an autumn chill gyrating its way from the Atlantic. The steady chimes of Big Ben rang in the eighteenth hour as the mighty mass of clockwork looked on from its post. London was on its routine schedule, with the bustle of surly businessmen striding home to their families and the clamors of gloomy factory workers as they trudge their way to the local taverns. Although it was light enough to see, it was also dark enough for the shadows to creep along the mosaic of cobblestone as the homeless settled into doorsteps and alleyways for a bitter cold night's sleep.

The year of 1891 was coming to an uneasy end, as far as Dr. John Watson could say. Sitting within the study of his home on Cavendish Place, the good doctor gripped within his fingers a most curious item. Light bronze in color with a rubber mouthpiece, the device was in fact a breathing apparatus for high-altitudes. Watson's thick brow furrowed over his blue eyes as he sat deep in thought, occasionally turning and fiddling with the brass piece.

His wife, Mary, had told him before their weeklong trip to Briton that the postman had delivered it; he however wasn't so sure. If the intent delivery of this object was what the doctor suspected, then it would mean that his best friend was indeed alive. All through that holiday he just couldn't get the notion out of his head that Holmes was all right, he himself had attended his funeral and finished his memoirs not long ago.

He could still recall the shadowy incident in Reichenbach like yesterday. Their last conversation. Their parting words. Even his friend's final glance haunted the deep recesses of his mind. And before he knew it, both the most dangerous criminal and the foremost champion of the law were lost to the icy grip of the Swiss falls. The unanswered questions echoed within the doctor's mind.

_But if you did survive…Then why aren't you here?_

_Why make everyone think of you dead and have all this suffering?_

Why did you disappear? Unless…

A steady tapping at the second-story window snapped him out of his thoughts. Placing the apparatus on his writing desk, Watson went to investigate. As he opened the glass window, he immediately jumped back as a small, dust-colored bird flapped in and landed perfectly on his coat rack. As the bird preened its wing after the dramatic entrance, the doctor made several attempts to scare the intruding bird back outside.

"Shoo. Away you go." He insisted.

But the bird only cooed in amusement, being completely unfazed by this crazed human's efforts. Perplexed as to how incredibly brave or extremely foolish the bird was, it was then Watson realized by the animal's markings his guest was a carrier pigeon. The notion was reassured by the cylindrical wooden case harnessed to its back. Carefully removing the case, he popped open the end and a roll of paper slid out into his hand. He carefully read the message.

_In order to find what you seek so dear,_

_The solution from afar is currently near._

_I will help you locate what desires to be found,_

_And all you must do is turn back around._

In what can be described as utter disbelief Watson chortled, as it surely must've been a joke. But the nagging feeling in the back of his head told him not to take chances. Following the note's demands the doctor turned around cautiously only to find lounging in his study chair in a lazy manner was a young woman, no more than sixteen he estimated, wearing brown slacks with suspenders, a white cotton shirt and a tattered sailor's cap. Contently lying above the headrest of the seat was a rather large ginger cat. Taking a loud bite from a speckled apple, the ringlets of the young girl's short dark hair fell to her face until she brushed them away, revealing a large pair of vivid green eyes. Studying the bite she took off the fruit, one would think the girl and her cat had been invited into the upper-class residence.

"May I help you?" stammered the doctor. A smirk slid across the intruder's face.

"I think you acquire my assistance as much as I do yours, Dr. Watson."

Watson struggled to find the right words for the longest time. Meanwhile his peculiar guest rubbed her furry companion's chin, to which he seemed delighted as his rumbling purr could not only be heard, but felt as well. Keeping a steady gawk, the good doctor finally found his voice.

"Who are you and how do you know my name?"

As if on cue, the stranger sat upright and calmly stood to her feet while reaching for a leather satchel next to the chair. Sliding her apple back into the well-worn bag, she then carefully pulled out and unfolded a multicolored cloth. It revealed to hold a somewhat stale half piece of bread. Breaking off a generous sized portion, she made a series of strange cooing sounds. Watson had been such awe of his uninvited guests, he nearly forgot about the pigeon as it flapped past his head and perched onto the girl's hand.

"I ought to know your name. Since I can remember, I've heard stories of the famous Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. I'm only surprised that he, nor Mycroft never mentioned their sister, Ingrid or myself."

The cat watched with interest from the back of the chair, eyeing the feathered morsel. Taking no notice at all, the young woman continued to feed the avian messenger. It was much to the feline's disappointment that after the bird finished eating his reward, his mistress escorted it to the window and let it fly away to see another day and leaving the cat growling in disgust. Then acknowledging the cat's bad mood, the young woman reached into her pocket and tossed her furry friend a piece of dried meat, to which he caught with ease and disappeared out the door.

"But then, I suppose they have their reasons. I'm told my father's death was quite a blow to mother."

Again Watson found himself speechless. How could this be? Why had Holmes not mentioned to him, his best and probably only friend, that he had a sister? Let alone a niece whom was now in his home, standing right before him? The doctor was once again snapped out of his stupor by the sounds of cabinets and cupboards being opened.

"My name is Alexandria Holmes." The imposing girl shouted over her shoulder as she pawed over various items. "Although, I prefer Alex. I do apologize for the inconvenience, but believe me when I say it's not without due cause. I am here because for some odd reason, my mother has disappeared."

Briefly interrupting her chain of thought, Alex found what she sought. A bottle of finely aged scotch and two glasses. The clink of the glasses meeting the doctor's desk was shortly followed by the glug-glugs of the strong liquor being poured.

"What's worse is that the government officials back home have gotten wind of it." Alex continued. "So to avoid being placed in some godforsaken workhouse, I made all haste for the next passage to England in hopes that I might bump into my dear uncle. However, it wasn't until I arrived that the news of his supposed death came to my attention."

Guzzling down the drink in one swig, Alex turned her back to admire a painting on Watson's study wall. Taken aback by the strange girl, the doctor took a mouthful of liquor. Clearing his throat as the liquid burned slightly, he chortled.

"Supposed death? He fell from hundreds of feet to be swept away by freezing water. Call me pessimistic, but there is no recorded case of one surviving such a fall."

"Exactly my point, Doctor. Just because it was never recorded doesn't mean that no one ever did survive such a fall."

"I witness him plummet to his death myself, Alex." Watson argued.

"And yet you still hold onto the notion that he did survive." Alex kept her back to him as she answered. "That hidden away in the shadows just beyond your vision, he is there. Leaving little clues to reassure that you are not wrong. Observing from his post, waiting for us to find him-"

"Us?" Watson interrupted.

"Of course us, Doctor." Alex finally turned around with a grin that Watson had only seen on one man before. "Who better to find the world's best consulting detective than his old friend and colleague and his long lost niece? You are in need of an adventure, as much as I am. And this is our first clue."

Alex held in her hand the breathing apparatus that was on Watson's desk. Doing a quick double take he wondered how Alex had gotten hold of it without him seeing. As if she read his thoughts, the dark-haired girl tossed him the device and answered.

"Many have called me a petty thief, but I find the word 'opportunist' more fitting."

"Why should I help you?" inquired the doctor.

"Because he is your friend and he would gladly do the same for you. And that deep down, you know that men like him are too good too die."

After a long pause, the doctor looked up to his unexpected visitor and chuckled to himself. Knowing all to well that Mary would not like his answer one bit, he replied.

"I could never get rid of him whether I said yes or no. Well, what have I to lose."

No sooner had the words left his mouth, an startling hiss followed by a series of pitiful yelps from a dog broke the peace.

3


End file.
